Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Rain & Harvest to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
The June air was heavy and thick as wool, and the birds had stopped their song,
And the horizon wore a purple cloak, as dark as it was long.
Then the first far growl of thunder rolled across the sky,
Like a giant clearing his throat before a lullaby.
The lightning drew its silver lines from heaven to the ground,
And the trees held their breath in wonder at the mighty sound.
The dog crept under the table, and the cat crept under the bed,
And the grandmother lit a candle, and a quiet prayer she said.
But the children watched the window with their eyes as big as moons,
For they loved the storm's wild orchestra and its crashing, banging tunes.
Then the rain came down in torrents, and the thunder drifted far,
And the world smelled fresh and clean beneath the first bright evening star.
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Commentary
A June storm arrives with heavy air and a growl, and it ends in fresh light. This poem watches how a household and its animals meet the thunder, some with fear and some with delight.
“The June air was heavy and thick as wool, and the birds had stopped their song.” Then “the first far growl of thunder rolled across the sky, like a giant clearing his throat before a lullaby.” “The lightning drew its silver lines from heaven to the ground,” and “the trees held their breath in wonder.”
“The dog crept under the table, and the cat crept under the bed,” and “the grandmother lit a candle.” But the children watch “with their eyes as big as moons,” loving “the storm’s wild orchestra.” When “the rain came down in torrents,” “the world smelled fresh and clean beneath the first bright evening star.”